Perry Link is Chancellorial Chair at the University of California at Riverside. His recent books include An Anatomy of Chinese: Rhythm, Metaphor, Politics and a translation of the memoirs of the Chinese astrophysicist Fang Lizhi, entitled The Most Wanted Man in China: My Journey from Scientist to Enemy of the State. (June 2018)
by Eileen Chang, translated from the Chinese by Jane Weizhen Pan and Martin Merz
a film directed by Li Fangfang
Finished in 1976 but not published until 2009, fourteen years after her death, Eileen Chang’s novel Little Reunions sold 700,000 copies in China in its first six months of publication. It is Chang’s most autobiographical work, so some of its allure has been as a trove of clues to the author’s life. More than that, though, the novel recalls a vanished China of the 1930s and 1940s that was both rooted in Chinese culture and open to the West; its scenes offer an antidote to the mood of indignant rivalry and, at least in the imagination, an alternative to the Xi Jinping version of what it means to be a modern Chinese.
by Eliot Weinberger, with an afterword by Octavio Paz
The Ghosts of Birds
by Eliot Weinberger
Some people, and I am one, feel that Tang (618–907 CE) poetry is the finest literary art they have ever read. But does one need to learn Chinese in order to have such a view, or can classical Chinese poetry be adequately translated? In 1987 Eliot Weinberger, who has written …
The Big Red Book of Modern Chinese Literature: Writings from the Mainland in the Long Twentieth Century
edited by Yunte Huang
Dragon in Ambush: The Art of War in the Poems of Mao Zedong
by Jeremy Ingalls, compiled and edited by Allen Wittenborn
At the annual meeting of BookExpo America that was held in New York last May, to which most leading US publishers sent representatives, state-sponsored Chinese publishers were named “guests of honor.” Commercially speaking, this made sense. China’s book industry, with sales now reported at $8 billion annually, is the second-largest …
by Sheng Keyi, translated from the Chinese by Shelly Bryant
A Map of Betrayal
by Ha Jin
Can writers help an injured society to heal? Did Ōe Kenzaburō, who traveled to Hiroshima in 1963 to interview survivors of the dropping of the atomic bomb on that city eighteen years earlier, and then published a moving book called Hiroshima Notes, help his compatriots to recover? Did Primo Levi, …
The art of controlling speech while avoiding the appearance of doing so has a long history in China. If ten years ago political censorship was done by telephone, now it is out on the table, in writing. Though euphemisms continue to be useful to China’s rulers, it has now become increasingly obvious that their use is declining. In the era of Xi Jinping, repression is often stated baldly, even proudly.
Liu Xiaobo felt haunted by the “lost souls” of Tiananmen, the aggrieved ghosts of students and workers alike whose ages would forever be the same as on the night they died. His “final statement” at his trial in December 2009 opens: “June 1989 has been the major turning point in my life.” In October 2010, when his wife Liu Xia brought him the news of his Nobel Peace Prize, she reports that he commented, “This is for the aggrieved ghosts.”
Are people who think in Indo-European languages better off because their languages lead them to a clear conceptualization of an important puzzle? Or are thinkers in Chinese better off because their language gets them through life equally well without the puzzle?